UTM’s The Medium and the English & Drama Society have put together a great panel of emerging and established writers for this evening, and I’m really pleased to say I’ll be contributing as a panelist!

The panel kicks off at 5:00 pm in room IB150, and co-panelists will include Sara Peters, Simone Da Costa, Morgan Rhodes, Menna Elnaka, and Leah Edwards. There’ll be two hours of the hows and whats of fiction writing, swag, and books, and I think we’re going to have a really fun evening.

Hope to see you there!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Earlier this week, I did a great, thoughtful interview with Kris Abel of What She Said Radio about An Inheritance of Ashes, the Aurora Awards, favourite books, women in writing, and building fantasy worlds — and that’s going to be airing tonight!

In the Toronto area, the show’s on 88.5 The Jewel at 6:00 pm, with the segment coming on close to halfway through the show; it’s available to livestream online through their site.

Otherwise, a transcript of the full interview, not just the aired parts, will be posted on the What She Said website, and you can see me somewhat sleepily recommend a lot of reading.

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

The Canadian version’s been out for a little over two weeks, but today it’s Book Birthday for the American edition of the An Inheritance of Ashes paperback!

cugahrwxeaa5s-x-jpg-large

It will be doing its wingy thing in a softer, more affordable format on bookstore shelves across your fine nation. :)

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

It’s a serious pleasure to let you know that An Inheritance of Ashes, a book with apparently more energy than me, has won the 2016 Copper Cylinder Award in the YA category.

The adult category winner is Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Signal To Noise, which is a neat, unique first novel, and the company just makes this that much better.

I will post pictures when pictures are for the having. :)

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Leaves are turning, temperature’s dropping, apple cider’s out–and it’s Scavenger Hunt!

ya_scavengerhunt_webbannerhalloween

I’m Leah Bobet, author of An Inheritance of Ashes and Above, and I’m your host for this stop of the YA Scavenger Hunt!

Word on the Street, I am ready to rumble.

A photo posted by Leah Bobet (@leahbobet) on

The Puzzle

I’ve hidden my favorite number somewhere in the post below. If you collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the Red Team, and then add them up, you can hit the entry form at the YASH official site to qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify!

red-team-yash-fall-2016

The Rules

The contest is open internationally, but anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by October 4th, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.


Now that that’s clear, on to the content: It’s my pleasure to host author Jennifer Brody!

jennifer-brody-author-1

Jennifer Brody’s debut novel The 13th Continuum sold to Turner Publishing in a 3-book deal and is being packaged into a feature film. The second book in the trilogy — Return of the Continuums — publishes on November 1, 2016. She is a graduate of Harvard University, a creative writing instructor at the Writing Pad, and a volunteer mentor for the Young Storytellers Foundation. She founded and runs BookPod, a social media group for authors. She lives and writes in LA.

return-of-the-continuums

Reaching the Surface was just the beginning. As Myra Jackson and her friends set out to find the First Continuum, Captain Aero Wright and two companions from the outer space Second Continuum find themselves banished for treason and stranded on Earth. Wright has vowed to complete his late father’s mission to recolonize their ancestral planet, but his true mission is to find the mysterious girl who haunts his dreams.

Meanwhile, Myra and the young refugees of the underwater Thirteenth Continuum must make an unlikely ally if they are going to survive the hostile surface world and reach their destination, the nexus of humanity’s hope for survival.

As their paths begin to converge, the Beacons that guide and connect Myra and Aero begin to prove their power, and a shadowy force with a centuries-old grudge reveals itself.

There’s more on Return of the Continuums at Jennifer’s website, or checking the book out here!

But for now, Jennifer’s shared an extra special bonus scene from Return of the Continuums.

“The signal was coming from this place,” Aero said. He glanced around the courtyard framed by crumbling red-brick buildings. His Beacon pulsed steadily, but with no urgency.

“But that can’t be right,” Wren said. “There’s nothing here. Look around…there’s just ruins.” She picked up her boot and wiped off the ash clinging to the sole. Aero stared at her boot and felt sick. Human ash, he realized. Many people died here.

“Patience,” the Forger urged.

He rested his hand on Wren’s shoulder, but she looked anything but patient. Her brow knitted together in frustration and disappointment. Her emotions were always so nakedly displayed on the fine contours of her face, Aero thought.

“Sir, what do we do now?” Wren asked, scanning the courtyard.

“I don’t know,” Aero said. He hated uncertainty more than anything. He spun around, looking for the door to the First Continuum. He glanced down at his Beacon for guidance. “Why’d you bring us here?” he muttered to the device on his wrist.

No response came.

It was Myra who answered. Her lips were pressed into a thin line; her face glowed in the brittle sunlight. The wind tussled her hair. She focused on her Beacon. “Elianna, I know you’re in there. Come on, show us the way…”

They stood together and held the space. Myra’s brow cinched, as she concentrated hard. Aero joined her, probing his Beacon until the fuse lit. Their Beacons caught fire. The light blazed up their arms and enveloped their bodies.

The images from Before Doom assaulted their neural synapses — stately buildings, manicured courtyards, orderly pathways crammed with students racing to class, cavorting and shouldering heavy bags crammed with books, packing the lecture halls. Professors spoke from wooden podiums, their voices booming out and disseminating the collected knowledge of the humanity. The images continued pouring into their brains, as if downloaded from some invisible source.

Aero felt a kinship to these long dead students, even across the boundless gulf of time. This had once been an institution of higher learning and research, different that the Agoge in its primary purpose, but a school nonetheless. But even it could not withstand the coming onslaught. The images resolved into the day that it happened.

Aero watched as the Doom exploded into the world, claiming every living creature in a tempest of fire and radiation. Buildings that had stood for a thousand years burned and crumbled to dust. Students fled across the campus, but there was nowhere to run. The Doom had possessed the world; it had become the world. He watched as a girl burst into ash that fluttered and flitted about in the fiery air.

The waves of destruction kept coming, one after another, pummeling the world, until everything was dead or destroyed, and would remain so for a thousand years. The images slowly dissolved back into the present. He heard Myra gasp beside him.

“You saw it, too?” Aero asked. His voice wavered with sadness.

A tear drifted down her cheek. “It was so beautiful…but now only ashes.”

They shared a moment of grief, as their thoughts blended and swirled together. But then her eyes lit up. “Elianna…I can feel her. I think she’s coming back to me.”

Aero squeezed her hand.

“She never left you.”

Catching the dazed expression on his face, Wren couldn’t help but scowl. “Let me guess, the Beacon’s telling you something? Care to share it with the rest of us?”

Aero knew that she felt left out, that in some dark place where jealousy blossomed and grew, that Wren wished she were a Carrier, not Myra. But every colony had only one. Aero had been chosen by the Beacon. He couldn’t help the connection that he shared with Myra, anymore than he could help the fact that he had two arms and two legs. He wanted to say these things out loud, beg for Wren’s understanding. But words failed him, as they often did when they became entangled with emotions.
Instead, all he said was:

“Right, the Beacon says to go this way.”

Two arms and two legs! That means between Aero and Myra, they’d have 8

I’m running my own giveaway here:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

But! Don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of signed books by me, Jennifer, and more!

Keep On Hunting

Thanks for stopping by! Your next stop on the hunt is Kat Ellis, who has more bonus material, giveaways, and author spotlights!

Happy hunting!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

The Fall YA Scavenger Hunt is coming, and fast.

ya_scavengerhunt_webbannerhalloween

I’ll be rocking it with the Red Team this season, along with some first-time scavenger hunt authors and regulars both.

red-team-yash-fall-2016

We’ll be doing the Scavenger Hunt from noon, Pacific time, on Tuesday, October 4th to noon Pacific on Sunday, October 9th, complete with a huge amount of bonus material, prizes, and more. Join in by checking out the YASH How-To page — and sharpen your hunting fingers!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Since it’s rapidly rushing up on me (aaaa):

I’ll be at this year’s Word on the Street Festival on Sunday, September 26, but in a different capacity than usual: I’m turning my hand to hosting the brand-new Genre Zone stage for the afternoon!

So while I’ll be there and around the stage for most of the day, it’ll be to showcase and interview authors and comics creators including Madeline Ashby and Chester Brown, and a pile of up-and-coming awesome people!

Copies of An Inheritance of Ashes‘s paperback edition — officially out this week! — will be at the festival, and I’ll be around to sign a few for those who wants them!

Here’s the stage schedule, and I hope to see you there!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Now that it’s official:

I am thrilled to let you know that An Inheritance of Ashes is the winner of the 2016 Sunburst Award in the Young Adult Novel category.

It’s recognized along with Gemma Files’s incredible Experimental Film in the adult category, and Catherine MacLeod’s “Hide and Seek” in the short fiction category.

Given the amazing works on the longlist and shortlist, this is about three times the honour it would normally be, so: A million congratulations to everyone — winners and nominees! — and, well. Thank you. So much.

Details at the Sunburst Society’s own page!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Now that we’re past Labour Day (and what turned into an eight-hour jam-making marathon over here; I have so much jam, guys) it’s going to be a full September for events: I’m going to be hosting a stage at Word on the Street, running a launch-day Facebook event takeover, and panelling this weekend at Ottawa’s 2016 CanCon, which is right downtown this year and shaping up to look great! Here’s my quick panel schedule for the convention:

Friday, September 9

8:00 pm Story Structure — Sunset Room
Sheila Williams, Sam Morgan, Ranylt Richildis, Leah Bobet, Nina Munteanu (m)

From the perspectives of literary agent, editors and writers, our panel discusses story structure, both the old standards and more experimental structures that have worked.

Saturday, September 10

11:00 am Reading — An Inheritance of Ashes — Guildhall
Leah Bobet

Leah Bobet reads from her Aurora-winning novel An Inheritance of Ashes

6:00 pm Youth Gateways Into Genre Fiction — Zenith Room
Ed Willett, Leah Bobet (m), Fanny Darling, Mark Shainblum

Every author can probably, tell you when they first got interested in their chosen genre. Today, though, the way that younger readers are accessing speculative fiction is much different than it was even five years ago. How are new readers being hooked into sci-fi, fantasy or horror? Have there been changes for older readers, too, and has this changed the way we write or market our fiction?

Sunday, September 11

12:00 pm Amazing Books in the Different Subgenres of SF — Zenith Room
Timothy Gwyn (m), Leah Bobet, Lisa Toohey, Jonathan Crowe, Amal El-Mohtar

Science fiction is bubbling over with new ideas and new voices. Our panel discusses must-read works that have been published in the last couple of years.

I’ll be stopping into the Rideau Chapters to sign stock on Saturday as well, and leaving a few autographed — and personalized, if you want them! — books there.

Looking forward to seeing you, Ottawa!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

It is an intense and surprising pleasure to let you know that An Inheritance of Ashes won the 2016 Aurora Award for Best English Young Adult Novel this Saturday evening.

This is pretty cool, as you might imagine. :)

The full list of winners is here, and congratulations to everyone: nominees and winners!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Quick post in a very busy summer:

I’ll be participating in Chapters Brampton’s YA in Conversation Panel on August 27th, alongside some incredible authors: Roshani Chokshi, Ryan Graudin, E.K Johnston, and Lindsay Smith!

Fall is looking to be fairly busy, so watch this space: All kinds of good stuff coming up!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Ad Astra!

Apr. 27th, 2016 07:03 pm

Toronto’s literary SFF convention, Ad Astra, is coming up this weekend, and I’ve got my programming schedule in hand. If you’re hitting the convention, here’s where I’ll be!

Friday, April 29

8:00 pm The Medium is the Message: Plays, Screenplays, Novels, and Other Media — Newmarket
Jen Frankel, Leah Bobet

As a writer, you may have considered writing that novel. But what about that screenplay? That play? That board game? That web series? How can you make a living as a writer or create that great work of art while thinking outside the box of simply words on a page? This panel is about transitioning between various mediums to create the universe that lives in your mind, some of which you maybe never even considered, and how to approach each one differently.

Saturday, April 30

2:00 pm The Impact of Social Networks and Online Communities on Human Experience — Oakridge
Adam Shaftoe, Ira Nayman, Leah Bobet

Between the Arab Spring, the “year of outrage,” and the heating up of the culture wars politically and within fandom, the last few years have been a tumultuous time. At the heart of this conflict has been the ubiquity of social networks and media, and the ease with which we can communicate publicly what would have previously been very intimate opinions. For some, the online world represents a utopian globalization in which everyone has access to a wealth of opinions, ideas and information. For others, the online world has only divided, creating separate bubbles of opinion and thought that have led to the growth of hate organizations, public shaming and anger, doxxing and the proliferation of junk science and faulty arguments. How have social networks and online communities impacted human experience? Have they made us, effectively, telepathic? And what might the impact of this be on humanity going forward?

Sunday, May 1

11:00 am Sunday Morning Fantasy Reading — Oakridge
Chadwick Ginther, Leah Bobet, Sarah WaterRaven, Vanessa Ricci-Thode

Join authors Chadwick Ginther, Leah Bobet, Sarah WaterRaven and Vanessa Ricci-Thode for selected readings in the genre of Fantasy.

12:00 pm Surviving as an Artist — Markham A
Erik Buchanan, Leah Bobet, Marie Bilodeau

So you want to make a living as an artist of some kind. That science degree isn’t doing it for you. Maybe everyone is telling you that you’re going to starve! Come to this panel and hear how some of the artists in literature, music and art have found a way to “make it” and find out what making a living as an artist or writer actually means to you.

I’ll also be putting in some solid hours behind the Bakka-Phoenix Books table, so the Dealer’s Room will be a great place to look if you’d like to say hi!

Hope to see you there!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Get ready, get set…it’s on!

YA_ScavengerHunt_WebBanner

I’m Leah Bobet, author of An Inheritance of Ashes and Above, and I’m your host for this stop of the YA Scavenger Hunt!

Haircut!
The Puzzle

I’ve hidden my favorite number somewhere in the post below. If you collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the blue team, and then add them up, you can hit the entry form at the YASH official site to qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.

YASH Spring Blue Team

The Rules

The contest is open internationally, but anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by April 3rd, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.


Now that that’s clear, on to the content: It’s my pleasure to host author Brynn Chapman!

Brynn

Born and raised in western Pennsylvania, Brynn Chapman has dissected cadavers, toured asylums and is MENSA-eligible. Her writing reflects her passions: science, history and love–not necessarily in that order. In real life, the geek gene runs strong in her family, as does the Asperger’s syndrome. Brynn’s book, BONESEEKER, won the 2015 Young Adult Golden Leaf Award. Her new release, REQUIEM RED is due out on April 6, 2016.

“Exquisitely written! Requiem Red is a haunting tale of monsters, music, insanity, and the power of love where one least expects to find it. Brava, Ms. Chapman! This book will remain forever in my heart!” –NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones


Patient Twenty-nine.

A monster roams the halls of Soothing Hills Asylum. Three girls dead. 29 is endowed with the curse…or gift of perception. She hears messages in music, sees lyrics in paintings. And the corn. A lifetime asylum resident, the orchestral corn music is the only constant in her life.

Mason, a new, kind orderly, sees 29 as a woman, not a lunatic. And as his belief in her grows, so does her self-confidence. That perhaps she might escape, might see the outside world.

But the monster has other plans. The missing girls share one common thread…each was twenty-nine’s cell mate.

Hi! Thank you so much for having me. I am in medicine by day, so I have an insatiable interest in the history of medicine.

While researching REQUIEM RED, I was horrified to learn of the standard 1800’s treatments of bloodletting, trepanning (drilling a hole in the skull), ablation (lobotomy) purging (enforced vomiting) and many, many others that make an appearance in the book.

Superstitions ran wild in these centuries, and if the physicks had no explanation for the illness, it was typically thought to be evil or supernatural. I toured Transallegheny Lunatic Asylum Twice—as there is no substitute for having walked in the setting in which you are writing.

It was all too easy to feel Jane’s depression, her laudanum addiction, her hopelessness. She has never known touch, compassion — nor been called by her name. Three girls missing — all were her roommates.

But all that is about to change…enter Mason, the new orderly — who sees Jane as a woman, not a patient. But will the asylum allow her to leave?


Chapter One

1894, SOOTHING HILLS SANATORIUM
PHILADELPHIA, COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA

“Jane! Jane, where are you? There has been an accident!”

Nurse Sally’s tremulous voice echoes down the sanatorium’s hallway, ricocheting off the walls like mad bats in flight. I close my eyes, press my lips tight, and keep silent.

“Patient Twenty-Nine!”

I flinch at the use of my patient number and slide from the hidden window seat, snapping my book closed to bound down the corridor. The nurse’s cry came from the direction of my room.

“Twenty-niiiine…” a male, sing-song voice calls out through the bars. I swerve and dart out of his way, narrowly missing those yellowed, grasping fingernails. My heartbeat doubles as I spin and run faster.

What has she done now?

My roommate Lily is truly disturbed. I spend most of my time out of the room, out of her way, because of her howling, because of her—

I round the corner and skid to a halt, instantaneously shaking.

Lily’s long blond hair spreads out on her cot like a coquette’s fan. Her eyes are closed. Her chest appears…still.

“Nurse?”

“Jane, go for help. Now. Run to Ward 4 and fetch Dr. Grayjoy!”

I stand staring, blood frozen in my veins, feet frozen to the floor. Lily’s head gives a violent jerk, and I gasp.

“For the love of heaven, now, you imbecile!”

I run. But not before I see the wall. Not before I see the message scrawled above her bed.
Help me. I know not what I do.

***

SOOTHING HILLS ASYLUM VISITORS’ SALON

“Bravo! Bra-vo, Miss Frost!” Willis Graceling, my would-be-suitor, claps too loudly.

I wince, but curtsy all the same, deftly moving my cello behind me. I walk off the small stage and ease myself into the milling crowd.

Father claps as well, slow and deliberate. Everyone in the salon follows his lead, though truth be told, it is a distracted applause. These hospital patrons and philanthropists are more interested in donations and connections than what musical selection I have performed this eve.

The windows are fogged from the patrons’ breath and the too many bodies in this too-warm room, despite the chilled fall breezes that whisper at the panes, reminding us that winter is coming. My eyes roam as I try to calm myself—to prepare for the onslaught of attention. I am unused to such large gatherings due to my largely sequestered upbringing.

Crystal goblets of rose-red flash by on a silver tray, just beneath my nose, close enough to catch the fragrant bouquet. I snatch one and the waiter raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, hurrying back into the fray. I am used to the whispers of virtuoso, but the outright attention I do not prefer. I would rather wield the pen and music and have another perform it.

Colors now dance behind my eyes. I picture them weaving in and out of the wrinkles in my brain. Notes appear in color for me. The color-note correlation never alters, like my own multi-hued, musical alphabet. This ability allowed me to learn to play at a very, very young age. As a child, I merely wished to see the rainbow in my mind.

Papa strides toward me, black eyes narrowing as his substantial arm slides about my waist, shuffling me into the crowd.

He whispers, “That was very good, Jules.”

His eyes shift through the patrons, nodding and smiling, but out of the side of his mouth, he says, “But I have heard it played better. In your own chambers.”

Willis trails behind us like a bounding, oversized puppy. I can almost see the leash from his neck to my father’s belt. Or perhaps an invisible chain from his coin purse to my maidenhead.

I am to be sold, er, married within the year.

Father vacates my arm, and I sigh in relief, but he is quickly replaced by Willis’s eager face. “Shall I fetch you some punch, Jules?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.”

I ghost to the window and wrap my shawl tighter about my shoulders to guard against the draft sliding beneath its frame. Outside, a vast cornfield dies a day at a time. Remnants of green poke through the blackened leaves—as if hazel-eyed fairies play hide-and-seek, peeking out of the gloom-colored stalks.

I turn to watch Willis’s retreating form, disappearing into the society crowd, and cannot stay the sigh.

It is not so very terrible. He is handsome…and kind. Better than many other prospects I have had forced upon me. If people were flavors, Willis Graceling would decidedly be vanilla. Though nothing is decidedly wrong with vanilla, it is predictable, and quite often a filler.

I bite my lip.

I always dreamed of sharing my life with more of a…curry.

A gaggle of what my mind has deemed society women descends. Women with whom I share no connection, no interests, but for the sake of reputation, I must politely endure their inane conversation.
“Jules, it was so lovely. Did you truly compose it yourself?”

“Yes.” My stomach contracts.

Despite the low din of their prattling voices, I hear it.

A trickle of fear erupts in a violent shiver as gooseflesh puckers my arms.

“Whatever is the matter, child?” Lady Bennington’s face pinches with concern.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

But I hear it … louder. Growing louder every second. The music, wafting in with the draft, as if the dying corn laments its own demise.

I curtsy. “Please do excuse me. I am feeling a bit faint. Perhaps the night air will set me to rights.” And without waiting for their reply, I make my getaway to the back of the salon, toward the door.

I slip out to the darkened porch and lean the back of my head against the door, closing my eyes. A multitude of covered lanterns cast a yellow haze over the myriad of rocking chairs, which now move in time with the breeze. As if the hospitals past invisible inhabitants sit, waiting in other-worldly expectation. Listening. As I listen.

It has been so long since I heard this music. Childhood experience has taught me only I hear this music. It seems to live only in my mind.

Maeve, my governess, forbade me to speak of it.

When I was but three, I first told her of the music. Of the words I hear in the music. Not in every song…only very specific melodies. Not lyrics, precisely, but intonations…like a whispered message. The harmonious voice whispering promises between the notes. She made me promise never to mention it again. Especially not to Father. I heeded her warning, the terror in her round, dark eyes forever etched in my memory.

The notes now pull and tug at my chest, as if sawing through my sternum, managing to wrench my rib cage open, as the tones grasp my heart and squeeze. The music elicits unwelcome tears.

A single phrase repeats over and over, embedded in the sound, like a musical Morse code.

Save me. Save me. Save me.

I bite my lip, then whisper, “From where. Who are you?”

Visit Brynn on her website, www.brynnchapmanauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brynn.chapman
Twitter: https://twitter.com/rrsmythe
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brynnchapman/
Add REQUIEM RED on goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26176476-the-requiem-red


Creepy! You can almost hear the voices: Patient 33?

I’m running my own giveaway here:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

But! Don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of signed books by me, Brynn, and more!

Keep On Hunting

Thanks for stopping by! Your next stop on the hunt is Vicki L. Weavil! Happy hunting!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

Spring is, well, sort of nosing its way up more than springing, but: It’s time for the this Spring’s YA Scavenger Hunt!

I’ll be chilling out with the Blue Team, alongside a whole stack of experienced YA authors — and a pile of debuts!

Blue Team

We’ll be doing the Scavenger Hunt from noon, Pacific time, on Tuesday, March 29th to noon Pacific on Sunday, April 3rd, complete with a huge amount of bonus material, prizes, and more. Join in by checking out the YASH How-To page — and sharpen your hunting fingers!

Originally published at Leah Bobet. You can comment here or there.

March 21, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 200.
Words total: 19,000.
Reason for stopping: Bed.

Darling du Jour: N/A

Research Roundup: N/A

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky.


Just a very little today -- this was a day mostly eaten by copy writing -- but even with a lot of project work on my plate, there was a little today. I still wrote.
March 20, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 500.
Words total: 18,800.
Reason for stopping: Bed.

Darling du Jour: "I know." He shakes his head, dislodging the last, light fingernails of those memories. "I know. Really."

Research Roundup: Pliés; whether the plowshare parable is functional in Asia.

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky.


Long, quiet afternoon and evening. It's the first Sunday I've had free in about three weeks, and we made the most of it: A very thorough home-cooked brunch, a long walk around the neighbourhood, in the sun, a generous helping of laundry, and then off to our quiet corners to make some art.


March 18, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 100 yesterday, 500 today.
Words total: 18,300.
Reason for stopping: Dinner.

Darling du Jour: N/A.

Research Roundup: N/A.

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky.


Whatever intermittent fever thing I've had for the last while, it is still here and it is very hard to get anything done with it hanging around. I was at this most of the afternoon. I had to keep stopping to lie down.

So: mostly connective tissue. Bits and pieces. No real revelations today.
March 14, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 100 on Friday night, 600 tonight.
Words total: 17,700.
Reason for stopping: Sleeeep.

Darling du Jour: None of this is real, I think, like a ritual, and then the first gust of wind hits ROBOTNAME and rocks us, twinned, back in our harnesses, and it is. It is absolutely real.

Research Roundup: N/A.

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky.


As you can tell, this is still rife with placeholder nouns. Eh, it's a draft.

Bed. Bed bed bed.
March 10, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 1,050.
Words total: 17,000.
Reason for stopping: Should start dinner. I'm thinking of trying to freestyle a sausage soup.

Darling du Jour: Uncle Haru's nod from behind the wheel as I closed his passenger door this morning, how Aunt Misato looked at me when she read the statistics in that flat white envelope: as if, overnight, my face had changed into a vast and shadowed new terrain.

Research Roundup: Architecture of Japanese suburbs; languages, cultures, and religions of Indonesia; depth of the Earth's crust.

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky; Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow.


Another full day dedicated mostly to drafting and sleeping off the remnants of the fever/wobbly thing plus watching documentaries about very serious people being very serious about cooking. If I'm deriving anything from the chef-stuff binge, it's that waking up with that 3am feeling of "Oh god, what have I done?" does not actually preclude skill, talent, or being on the right path to get what you professionally need. It, um, seems to be a feature.

Okay, sausage soup time. I have sausages. I have a cabbage that needs using.
March 9, 2016 Progress Notes:

The Robot Monuments

Words today: 100 last night, 850 tonight.
Words total: 15,950.
Reason for stopping: Bedtime.

Darling du Jour: Miles and miles of scaffolds and sparks arc through the air, and at their centres, crouched down and still big as the sky, are the robots.

Research Roundup: Local food of Hokkaido; earthquake-proof construction techniques.

Books in progress: Amanda Sun, Heir to the Sky; Lena Coakley, Worlds of Ink and Shadow.


It is a good feeling when after a day of not doing much at all (I didn't get a day off this weekend, and I won't next, so I forced myself to schedule one in between) I open a manuscript thinking there's nothing to say to it tonight, and almost a thousand words fall out.

Not the places I thought I'd be working tonight: a lot of fleshing out of a sequence that goes midway in the first third, and sending a few little tendrils from it into the last third of the book. Setting setting setting. Setting, and some relationship establishment.

I might need to name a few more pilots at this point. The placeholder NAME things are getting intrusive.

November 2016

S M T W T F S
  12345
6 789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 10:41 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios